


stealers, keepers

by karamelised



Series: no pressure, no diamonds ‘verse [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Jealousy, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Teasing, and a very slight warning for pain kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5722375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karamelised/pseuds/karamelised
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows to avoid mixing business with pleasure. But Louis is a thief working a job in Venice and the new guy isn’t being subtle.</p><p>or</p><p>Prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4699826">no pressure, no diamonds</a> and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4917196">in the rough</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stealers, keepers

**Author's Note:**

> It's still the 14th somewhere, right? So happy birthday to [Sheena](http://conscious--ramblings.tumblr.com/) and [Karlee](http://cosmicca.tumblr.com/), I hope you both had a wonderful birthday yesterday, this one is for you <3 And thank you to [Alice](http://intenselouis.tumblr.com/) for the prompts, wouldn't have been written otherwise!
> 
> As always, special thanks to my lovely beta [Zoë](http://happilysunlight.tumblr.com/), you're a lifesaver <3
> 
> I have taken several liberties with Venice, however, Louis isn't the only one scandalised by the statue, since replicas with [a detachable fig leaf](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Replicas_of_Michelangelo's_David) exist. Couldn't make that up if I tried.
> 
> Title from Ilona Andrews' Fate's Edge
> 
> → [tumblr post](http://karamelised.tumblr.com/post/137341025457/fic-stealers-keepers-by-karamelised-for), and yes, I gave this one a happy ending even though I probably shouldn't. So enjoy <3

The new kid is staring at him.

And okay, the new kid is also really hot, and not a kid at all. He’s also an established name in the business and everyone he’s worked with speaks very highly of him. But still. So far, Louis has only seen him act on stage in London before and it had been a disaster. Who has ever heard of a grifter that can’t act?

And Louis is a thief, he works out of sight. This sort of blatant attention makes him uneasy, makes him want to merge with the shadows behind him. This storage room is big enough, Venice’s streets just outside easy to get lost in, to disappear.

They’re clustered around a blackboard, all six of them. Introductions are long since over, scribbles in black marker depicting their plan for stealing one of the two highly prized imitations of Michelangelo’s David. Thankfully this one is only a foot high, which makes it that much easier to acquire than the original 17 foot marble statue it was modeled after. It’s still worth millions, or maybe the hefty price tag is _because_ it’s such a perfect replica in all but size.

Louis doesn’t care, he just wants to steal it.

He shifts to his other leg when the staring doesn’t ease up. He scowls; wants this new kid, Harry something-or-other, to look away, give him a breather.

In any other circumstances, this would be flattering, at least enough of an invitation for Louis to head over and strike up a conversation. Not that this sort of thing happens to him a lot, but then his days of going out several nights a week are long since over. And this sort of blatant staring just doesn’t usually happen when he’s out buying his groceries.

He concentrates back on Stan, who’s explaining the various exit strategies and a list of meeting places should anything happen. Only he’d been part of that stage of planning, had been the one climbing along the rooftops surrounding the building where their target is locked up securely in a safe and further protected by a laser grid that measures not only movement but tracks changes in temperature as well. And so he knows all this, allows his gaze to stray to Alberto, who is leaning against some crates, arms crossed before his wide chest.

Nick stands next to Louis, bumping their hips together when he realises Louis isn’t paying attention. Louis just rolls his eyes.

Ed is on his other side, headphones down around his neck but tablet still in hand, a camera feed of their surroundings displayed.

And Harry next to Ed, still staring at Louis like he’s trying to figure him out, like he’s a puzzle that needs solving.

And it’s kind of ridiculous because he’s wearing honest-to-god leopard-print boots, heeled and all, along with black skinnies that have several rips in them. Louis can’t see his shirt because he’s got the thick black coat tied tightly above it, hanging down past his thighs and accentuating his long legs and broad shoulders.

Not that Louis is looking, of course.

Harry is.

He’s flattered, sure, but it would be a really, _really_ bad idea. They work together, for one. And then there’s the fact that Harry is a fucking grifter and if Louis has learned anything from Nick, it’s that grifters can’t be trusted. 

And so he takes a step back, hides behind Ed and tries to ignore the image burned into his retinas of Harry staring at him with soft curls framing his face, fingers tugging at his bottom lip.

###

He’s having lunch and Grimshaw happens to be there, too.

“I’m telling you! This hacker is as good, if not better than Ed.”

Louis stabs at his food, almost stabs Harry in the leg out of reflex when he appears next to him suddenly. Startled reflex back under control, he grumbles about the disadvantages of sneaking up on people having an innocent lunch.

Harry just stands there and smiles. “Hi,” he says, friendly, looking annoyingly pretty while doing so.

“Styles! Come join us,” Nick gushes. Louis kicks his leg under the table, but that only earns him a yelp and a muttered curse.

Of course Harry pulls a chair from a neighbouring table closer and joins them. “So,” he starts when the silence stretches. “What’re you two up to?”

“Just a lunch, trying to catch up,” Nick tells him while Louis leans back and plans on not contributing to this conversation at all.

It’s a bit distressing how good Harry looks, how _expensive_ , dressed in some sort of designer clothes. Louis might not know the brand, but he can damn well see that his ridiculous frilly shirt and sunglasses combo will have cost him quite a penny.

Or he conned someone else into paying for it, he is a grifter after all.

The thing that rankles him is the fact that Harry fits in effortlessly into the slightly snooty Venetian locals, his expensive tastes blending right in.

And then there’s Louis himself, who almost wasn’t allowed into the restaurant because he’s wearing joggers. They’re vintage, and would have been expensive if he’d actually paid for them, but whatever. It’s not his job to fit in. That’s what grifters are for.

And how he finds himself sitting at a table with two of the most renowned ones in the business, he’ll never know.

Harry keeps stealing the garnish from his plate. If he starts in on the meat, Louis can’t be held responsible for his actions with the fork.

“Would you like to order something? I can call the waiter.” And shit, there he goes with the not talking.

Harry’s face lights up in satisfaction and Louis wonders if maybe, _maybe_ he got played into a response.

“That’s alright,” Harry says easily. “But thank you for offering.”

Louis stays quiet after that, until Harry starts snagging pieces of cucumber from his plate. “Nick is already finished,” he says, pointing at where Nick has neatly put his cutlery on his plate and pushed it away. “Maybe you can eat his food, instead of mine?”

Harry looks at Nick’s plate, at the identical garnish and the little side salad Nick hasn’t touched. Then he snakes out his hand and grabs a piece of carrot. From Louis’ plate.

“I don’t want Nick’s,” Harry says, eyes twinkling.

Louis scowls at him, mostly to hide the blush that’s creeping up his cheeks. He does _not_ blush because of guys, what the fuck?

There’s a prickling under his skin, an itch that doesn’t go away even when he scratches his nails down his arm. Louis knows what that means, knows what he has to do in order to lose that unbalanced feeling.

Only he’s already in the middle of a job. Doing another one, in Venice, would be monumentally stupid, could very well put this entire job at risk. Knowing this puts him in a foul mood almost immediately.

They all leave shortly after and while Nick is distracted with a phone call, Harry turns to him. “Would you like to join me today? I was thinking of exploring a bit.”

Louis’ mind first flashes to them both climbing onto rooftops, maybe even making their way through a vent shaft. His breathing and heart levels out, like that is literally all his body yearns for right now. Then he remembers that Harry probably meant it all a bit more along the lines of the normal touristy things and the itchy feeling is right back.

“Can’t,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Oh, you busy? We can do it tomorrow.” And Harry’s expression is so fucking open, so _hopeful_ that Louis doesn’t know what to do with so much genuineness.

He hopes Harry is putting it all on for show, because he doesn’t really want to be the one to crush his hopes when he inevitably turns him down. And he has to turn him down, needs to deal with his current mood before it spirals out of hand. He knows his limits, knows his breaking point, and just like every other addict out there, he needs his fix to feel normal again.

“Can’t,” he says, already backing away from them. “Have to go to Treviso tonight.”

Harry looks baffled, and Louis gets that. It’s a rash decision, but hopefully the hour long car ride will be enough to draw any unnecessary heat off of Venice.

A few weeks ago he’d devised a plan to break into the Chiesa di Santa Caterina in Treviso, just as a sort of mental exercise. There’s nothing particularly interesting for him to steal, but surely he can find _something_. If the itch doesn’t subside, he could always go back another night, return the artefact but use another way to break in.

Yes, that sounds like a grand idea.

###

“Let me buy you a drink.”

Louis startles out of his reverie, Harry sliding onto the barstool beside him and motioning to the bartender for two of Louis’ drinks.

When Louis just stares at him, Harry continues, “how was your visit to Treviso?”

Louis isn’t touching that one with a ten-foot pole. He’d muddled it up a bit, not enough prep work and too much eagerness, and the whole story had already hit the newspapers because he’d been sloppy. Whatever, he definitely doesn’t want to talk about it. “Don’t think we should be seen talking together. It might look suspicious.”

Harry shrugs easily. “It’ll look suspicious if I _don’t_ flirt with the hottest guy at the bar.”

It’s weird, this openness. It’s not like Louis dislikes people, at least no worse than anyone in their line of work. But he did spend most of the time other people use to fine tune their social skills fine tuning a completely different set of skills. Jumping off of a high-rise with nothing but a parachute on his back doesn’t require the finer art of social interactions.

Louis isn’t desocialised or anything; he’s too much of a natural people person. But this kind of direct come on is something he hasn’t had much experience with and he doesn’t quite know how to handle.

“Look,” he says just as the bartender places two more drinks in front of them. Harry pushes one closer to Louis with a lovely, long-fingered hand, rings glinting even in the dim lighting of the hotel bar. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Harry’s shoulders twitch in a disinterested shrug, his gaze finally slipping away from Louis. He faces forward, concentrates on the glass in hands intently. “I don’t know,” Harry says slowly, his voice even lower than usual. Louis can see the dip of his dimple growing deeper, even from this angle. “I think it’s a grand idea.”

“We work together.”

“Perfect,” Harry replies, taking a slow sip of his drink. Louis doesn’t watch his profile while he’s doing so, he doesn’t. “Then we’ve already got the same schedule.”

Louis snorts, because he crawls along rooftops all night while Harry is busy establishing a believable cover with a nine to five day job. “How do you figure that?”

Harry turns in his seat, his gaze burning into Louis, who watches a rather dirty smile form on his lips. “We’d make it work somehow.”

He’s so taken aback with the sudden flash of _want_ , that he’s tongue tied all of a sudden and it takes him several beats before he can say, “you don’t even know me.”

“Yes,” Harry says with a slow nod, eyes dipping to Louis’ lips for just a second. “That’s what I’m proposing to change.”

That startles a laugh out of him, the sheer lack of subtlety hilarious. He slides off his barstool and slaps enough twenties onto the counter to cover the drink Harry ordered for him, too. “I thought you were a grifter. If that’s what you consider conning people, we might be in trouble.”

He makes himself walk away, his body’s unwarranted attraction to this guy enough to propel him forward.

Just three more weeks till their break in. He can do this.

###

Harry corners him after they meet next, all six of them back in the storage unit, bringing each other up to speed with only a week to go.

“Come for a coffee with me.”

“Is that a question or a command?” Before Harry can open his mouth to continue, Louis spots Ed walking by. “Hey Ed? Come here for a minute?”

Ed does, and Louis practically pushes Harry right into his arms. “Harry here needs someone to show him a good coffee shop and I’m busy.”

He doesn’t even wait for an answer, slips away before the confused look on both their faces can morph into anything else.

It’s dark out and Louis quickly scrambles up a drainpipe, just manages to get his legs over the edge of the balcony and hide in the shadows before Harry comes outside, looking in both directions.

His shoulders slump and Louis watches as Harry runs a hand through his hair. His heart clenches, just for a second. Harry actually looks defeated, and it’s possibly the worst look he’s ever seen on him.

He trudges back inside and Louis waits a few moments to make sure the coast is clear before climbing further up, right onto the roof. His hotel isn’t too far away, a fifteen minute walk by foot. He looks out over the expanse of rooftops and chimneys, the spaces between houses that have water down below as often as they have cobblestones.

He hasn’t yet tried getting back to his place without touching the ground, but he’s willing to find out if he’s good enough.

###

It takes him three quarters of an hour to reach his hotel.

He’s had to double back a couple of times, the space between buildings too far to jump and no convenient prop nearby to bridge the gap. He botched up that last one, too, didn’t stick the landing and fell to his hands. He’s pretty sure he still has gravel lodged in his left palm.

He enters his room from the balcony instead of going through the lobby, because he always finishes a job properly, even if he set it for himself.

He plans to see how well the first-aid kit in the bathroom is stocked, might have to call down for something better when --

“What the fuck?”

Harry gets up leisurely from his hotel couch, carefully returning the magazine to the table. “Hi,” he says cheerfully. “Do you always enter your rooms through the window?”

Louis gapes at him because seriously? What the fuck?

“What the fuck?”

Harry’s smile just broadens. “You’ve said that already.”

“Well. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“You did, at the meeting just earlier. I don’t remember issuing an invite for you to come to my hotel room. How did you get in?”

Harry shrugs, takes a step closer. “I’m a grifter.”

“Yes, thank you, Captain Obvious. My word, whatever would we do without your clever observations.”

Louis goes to his bedroom, slams the door behind him. He can’t deal with this right now. He drags off his grimy clothes and slips into some loose joggers instead, shucks on a comfy jumper. He’ll take a shower later, once he’s dealt with his hand.

There’s a gentle knock. “Louis?”

Right. Once he’s dealt with his hand _and_ Harry. “What?” he snarls while heading for his bathroom.

“Can I come in?”

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” he shouts back.

He lets the water run until it’s warm before thoroughly washing his hands. It stings a bit, tiny pieces of gravel landing in the sink.

“Can we talk?” Harry is standing by the door, looking unsure. Because of course _now_ he starts feeling unsure, but gaining access to Louis’ rooms, that’s totally fine.

“Will it make you go away?”

Harry shrugs, another smile playing on his lips. “Not if I do it right.”

Louis just sighs and concentrates on cleaning his hand. Once the worst of the dirt is gone, he dries off before inspecting his palm. It’s not bad, but he should probably clean out the tiny wounds.

“So talk,” he says while rummaging through the first-aid kit for something to sterilise it with. He finds a bottle marked ‘medical alcohol’. That should do it. He’s still trying to open it when Harry’s hands close around his wrist.

“What are you doing?” He asks in that deep voice of his. He turns over Louis’ palms and sucks in a breath. “You’re bleeding. You can’t use alcohol on that.”

Louis rolls his eyes, wrists strangely burning where Harry is holding them in a firm grip. “It’s _medical_ alcohol.”

Harry just shakes his head and sets the bottle aside, pulls out gauze and another bottle instead. “Alcohol can damage your skin,” he says while soaking the gauze with the clear liquid. “It’s better to use the saline solution.”

“If you say so,” Louis mutters. He watches Harry clean his skin with meticulous little dabs.

It takes him a bit, but it finally dawns on him that this, this feels _nice_. Not his wounds, those sting a bit. But Louis can’t remember the last time he’s had someone take care of him like this. It’s unsettling and maybe that’s why his voice verges on mean when he asks, “what did you want anyway?”

Harry gives him a long look, one Louis can’t place at all. He returns to cleaning Louis’ wounds before asking in a neutral voice, “do you have a boyfriend?”

“No. Why?”

“Girlfriend, then?”

Louis laughs at that. “Definitely not.”

Harry shoots him a quick smile before returning his attention to Louis’ palm. “I didn’t want to presume. So you’re not seeing anyone, got no prospects lined up?”

“Nope.”

Harry nods, to himself mostly, before capping the saline solution again and packing it away. The gauze lands in the bin before he grabs Louis’ hand again, brings it up to his face to inspect it more closely. “I don’t think there’s any gravel stuck in there, but you’ll have to watch it. Also I can’t really put any plasters on. Do you want me to bandage it?”

Louis laughs some more before he pulls his hand free. “For a few scrapes? No that’s quite alright.”

Harry palms his wrist again and pulls him close. Louis’ breath catches in his throat and he looks up at Harry, still deciding if he wants to pull away or knee Harry where it hurts.

“So if you aren’t seeing anyone right now,” Harry says, his voice rumbling through his chest so that Louis can feel the vibrations in his own, “why won’t you get a coffee with me?”

Louis is still staring up at him. Like some sort of besotted imbecile. He _hates_ feeling like this, this helpless. He takes a deep breath, collects himself. “Because it wouldn’t just end with the coffee.”

“That’s kind of the point though, isn’t it?”

“Look,” Louis says, extricating himself from Harry’s grasp. “I’m sure this might be easy for you. But it isn’t for me. These, these _things._ They always end messily, especially when it’s with a co-worker.”

Harry steps closer again, his palm hot where it grasps Louis’ waist. “Doesn’t have to be. We’re both adults.”

He thumbs at Louis’ lip with the other and it takes everything in him not to groan at the touch. Harry leans in, lets his hand slide to Louis’ neck so his lips can ghost over Louis’ instead. “And I want you. Badly.”

Louis groans, doesn’t dare move closer for fear of being unable to stop. “It’s a bad idea,” he whispers.

“You keep saying that,” Harry whispers back. He leans in, their lips pressed together more firmly now, Harry’s hand clenching tightly on Louis’ waist.

Louis gasps, mouth falling open. He’s so sure Harry will take that as invitation to start kissing him, finds himself rather desperately wanting him to.

Only Harry doesn’t, like he’s waiting for Louis to give in first.

And surely, it wouldn’t be that bad? Surely whatever negative consequences they’d encounter would be outweighed by the sheer _relief_ of giving in to the sexual tension he’s feeling right now, like a physical force in here with them.

Louis shifts his weight, moving to the tips of his toes, mouth pressing fully against Harry’s now in the hottest, most chaste kiss he’s ever experienced. He feels Harry smile against his lips, feels his own answering smile in return.

And then, his phone rings.

“Don’t answer that. Please.” Harry _begs,_ a desperation colouring his eyes that is infinitely intriguing.

“I -- I have to,” Louis says, knowing the moment is over. “It’s Stan.”

Harry groans but pulls back, lets Louis talk to Stan about some new intel he’s just uncovered, something about the security system involving their David.

“I’ll call you back in five, okay?” He hangs up without waiting for an answer, looks at Harry’s miserable face. “I’m sorry.”

“I could stay?”

Louis hates squashing the soft and hopeful look on his face. “No, I’ll need to work through this, this needs to be figured out before we move in. Might change our plan altogether.”

Harry sighs and nods, heads for the hotel room door to let himself out. “Hey, tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Louis says with a weak smile. “Tomorrow.”

Turns out, he doesn’t catch Harry alone again until the night of the break in one week later.

###

This plan has gone to shit before they even started.

Nick should have opened the door, not a staff member with a tray of dirty dishes.

“Can I help you, sirs?” he asks in a heavily accented english.

Harry doesn’t completely suck at this whole grifting thing because he’s suddenly slumped against the wall, slurring, “Diana? ‘M looking for Diana. That’s Travie, she wants t’ meet him.”

Louis just stays quiet, tries to hide the bulging backpack from view. People might start asking questions when they see the modified crossbow sticking out.

“There’s no Diana here,” says the guy, squinting at them.

Louis takes that as his cue and grabs Harry’s elbow, hiding the bag behind Harry’s back. “He must have gotten the floor wrong,” Louis says smoothly. It’s not like they haven’t studied the blueprints for hours on end. He knows every vent shaft he can squeeze through, how long it takes one elevator to drive from the ground floor all the way up. He knows which walls are thick enough to hold a safe. He damn well knows they’re on the sixth floor. “We’re looking for room 514?”

“This is floor six, sir,” the guy tells them.

“Ah, see! That’s the problem then. I’ll just take my friend here and we’ll be on our way. Thank you.”

Harry leans on him heavily, giving him time to scoot the bag around as they head back down the hall, further away from the room.

It takes them ten minutes to finally return without anyone seeing them, that’s the second part of the plan gone belly up. Louis knocks, an intricate pattern because Nick is a fucking sadist when he wants to be, but he opens the door seconds later.

“What the fuck took you so long? Ed can’t keep the grid down forever.”

“Room service guy,” Louis says absentmindedly while elbowing his way past him and heading for the window.

He’s already retrieving the crossbow, assembling the bits still in the bag when he hears Harry’s deep drawl behind him. “Hey Nick, did you hide? While the guy was in here, I mean.”

Nick doesn’t answer immediately, which piques Louis’ interest. He doesn’t turn around though, still screwing the left bow limb into place.

“There’s like a wardrobe back there.”

Louis spins on his heel. “Grimshaw, please tell me you hid in the closet.”

“Shut it, Tommo. What if I did?”

Louis gets the other bow limb and repeats the process of attaching it, hands working quickly with the stock wedged between his thighs. He gives Nick a sweet smile, just because he knows it annoys him. “Then I’ll be milking this for at least the next two years.”

Nick grumbles and Louis laughs, because that’s as good as an admission. “I hate it when we fight, darling,” Nick finally drawls because he, too, knows how to push Louis’ buttons.

“Wait,” Harry says slowly, like he’s still thinking about it. Louis’ hands fly over the next piece while he rolls his eyes. “Were you two like, an item?”

Louis snickers, doesn’t even have to look up to know the face Nick is pulling. “Nickolas _wishes_.”

“So you weren’t,” Harry asks for confirmation.

Louis rolls his eyes, wonders why he’s saddled with these two idiots.

“It’s a good thing you’re so pretty,” Nick tells Harry, gently patting his arm.

“Stop flirting, you shameless hussy! Help me cock the string,” Louis says and because he can _hear_ Nick take in a breath and open his mouth he continues, “and make one joke about cocks and I will knee you so hard in yours, you won’t be able to sit down for a week.”

“You know what,” Nick grumbles while coming closer, “you’re no fun when you don’t get laid regularly.”

“And what --” Louis huffs as they both pull back the string, “would you even know about my sex life?”

Once the damn thing is cocked Nick takes a step back and wipes his brow, like that bit of exertion was actually too much for him. “It’s not like I didn’t offer.”

“A quick romp in a three-star hotel room is not an offer. That’s an insult.” Louis turns towards the huge window overlooking the wide stretch of water below, opens it and aims. “If you’re not prepared to wine and dine me properly, you’re shit out of luck.”

He presses the trigger and the arrow flies true, sailing through the night sky silently, the thin cable trailing behind it like a comet's tail. There’s a dull thud when it hits the side of the building opposite, just above level four. Hooks extend from the arrow to bury deep into the concrete. Louis gives an experimental tug and deems it safe.

He climbs onto the window ledge and secures the end of the rope with the twin claw he jams into the wall there, fiddling until the cable has almost no slack at all.

“Here,” he says, handing each of them a pulley for the makeshift zip line. “Remember to hold on tight. No safety nets here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick mumbles. “You just like to boss people around.”

“See me laughing when your arse lands in the water.”

Nick huffs and steps onto the window sill, lets Louis check the pulley is attached correctly. “Make sure to break with your legs.”

Nick just gives him a scowl and jumps, flying through the air at a slight downwards slope, accelerating as he goes.

“I would, you know?” Harry says while climbing up next to Louis and hooking the pulley into place.

Louis checks his too before asking, “would what?”

Harry smiles and it reads like a promise, has a shiver running up Louis’ spine he can’t quite suppress. “Wine and dine you properly.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just jumps.

Louis watches him go.

Okay then. Time to shake that off.

He grins, can already feel the wind on his face.

He’s so ready for this.

###

They hadn’t expected the sirens.

“Shit fuck, buggering fuck,” Nick curses. He jams the foot long statue into a watertight case filled with soft padding material and snaps it shut before stuffing it into Harry’s backpack. “I’ll cut the rope, don’t want them to follow us across the zip line.”

Louis hastily gathers the tools he used to open the safe and places them back into his own backpack. “Don’t be an idiot, that’s not a rope, that’s a cable. It can hold your weight, it’ll be hours before you do any damage to it with a fucking knife.”

“Well, do you have a better idea?”

“Yes,” Louis growls, heading for the door and not stopping until he reaches the far side of the apartment. “We start running and stop worrying about a form of transportation that requires a very specific set of pulleys to operate. What, you think they’re gonna make their way hand over hand along it? They aren’t fucking James Bond.”

He looks out the window, sees another canal below. This one blissfully cop-free, not a motorboat with flashing lights in sight. He reaches up, pulls down the rope ladder dangling above, the one he’d placed there just this afternoon.

“Come on,” he urges Nick, holds the ladder steady while Nick makes his way up to the rooftop.

Harry is next, and careful of his precious cargo, he starts climbing. Louis waits for him to reach the top too, knows how difficult it is when two people try to climb the ladder at once, how it twists out from under one’s feet with every movement of the other person.

Harry had been going at a decent speed but Louis still scrambles up in half the time. He’s got the same model strung up in his rafters at home, doesn’t like being out of practice.

“What’re you still doing here?” he hisses at Harry while rolling up the ladder and shoving that into his backpack, too.

“Bit of a problem,” Harry murmurs, nodding to where Nick is already standing on the opposite rooftop. The foot wide plank stretching between the two buildings is of Louis’ doing, too, had been a bitch to get up here without arousing suspicion.

It’s also lit up from below, like someone is shining a flashlight up.

“Police?” Louis half mouths, half whispers.

Harry nods, biting his bottom lip. The zip line across the first canal must have loosened his bun because tendrils of hair have escaped, gently caressing his face in the draft.

Louis doesn’t peak over the edge -- he isn’t a fucking idiot -- just looks over at where Nick is staring at them. Nick holds up five fingers before drawing a circle in the air. Louis nods, gives him a thumbs up.

“What does that mean?” Harry asks when Louis grabs his wrist, starts dragging him along the rooftop.

“Five days,” Louis murmurs, still tugging harder, needs Harry to run. “We’re meeting up in five days. Until then, we lay low.”

“Ah.” Harry finally puts some effort into his sprint but he’s still not as fast as Louis, but then, few people are. “We’ve switched to the backup plan, then.”

Louis skids to a halt when a dark figure appears over the edge of the roof, right where he knows a fire escape to be. He curses, turns left too quickly.

Harry stumbles behind him, still getting dragged along. Thankfully he doesn’t ask stupid questions, seems to trust Louis to know what he’s doing.

Good.

“Come on,” Louis urges, heading for the last exit he knows off this building that doesn’t involve jumping into the water. “Put those long legs to good use and hurry up.”

###

They step into the gondola minutes later, Louis picking the lock securing it to the pole in record time.

“Go,” he whispers the moment the chain slips free.

Harry sucks at steering, but his big hands are wrapped around the rowing oar securely, shoulders working as he propels the boat forward.

They’re taking the narrow canals only, the ones where the police boat can’t follow due to its bulk. “Here’s hoping they don’t have jet skis,” Louis mutters while the bow of the gondola hits the side of the building. Again. Harry clearly needs to brush up on his technique.

He’s just about to declare them tail-free when he sees another gondola appear behind them, manned by someone whose silhouette strongly suggests he’s wearing the standard policing hat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, trying to peer around Harry to ascertain if they’ve been spotted.

“What?” Harry asks, panting heavily.

Louis just shakes his head, tries desperately to remember the layout of the labyrinthine water streets surrounding them. “Take a left here,” he says quickly, pushing them off the wall when they inevitably crash into it at the sharp turn. “I’m gonna need you to speed up now.”

“I’m trying,” Harry puffs, arms and torso straining.

“Try harder,” Louis says, not unkindly, smiling to himself when Harry does.

###

Fuck, this is uncomfortable, not the least bit because Harry’s back is plastered to his front, like two sardines in a can.

“This is the worst plan, ever.”

“Tell that to the sweat on your upper lip,” Louis grouses. “No way would you have outsped them.”

He’d directed Harry to a nearby area where several gondolas moor for the night. They’d quickly slotted their boat between the others and thrown a rope over a nearby mooring post.

Then he’d pulled Harry down, both of them lying flat toward the stern, the blanket that had been so lovingly draped over the seats now over them.

 _Spooning_.

Louis grits his teeth when Harry shifts, bum rubbing against him in interesting places. He clamps his arm around Harry’s torso, hand flat on the middle of his chest in the hopes of getting him to quiet down. The chest under his hand is heaving, like Harry just sprinted a mile.

Louis spreads his fingers over Harry’s heart, feels the rapid beat beneath. “Calm down, Curly,” he whispers, sliding his hand to gather the heat emanating from him. “This isn’t just from the physical exertion, is it?”

“How’re you so calm?” Harry gasps. Louis is sure Harry is taking in far too much oxygen, like he might be hyperventilating any second now.

Louis tries to distract him by leaning in, sliding his fingers over Harry’s chest. “It’s fun.”

“Fun?”

Louis lets his fingers slip further, feels something hard underneath his palm. “Do you,” he licks his lips, staring intently at the back of Harry’s neck. “Do you have a nipple piercing?”

“Two,” Harry whispers.

Louis groans softly, flattening his palm and rubbing the piercing beneath. “How is that supposed to be calming,” Harry asks while pulling Louis’ hand off his chest, bringing it to his lips and mouthing up the length of it.

Louis jerks in surprise, crotch rubbing against Harry’s arse.

It’s _Harry_ who groans now, shoves two of Louis’ fingers in his mouth and pushes back against him. He’s circling his hips and tongue alike, and Louis can’t help but push back, grind against him hard, meets the tough denim material with every rotation of Harry’s lean hips.

“Who the fuck wears skinny jeans to a break in,” he whispers against Harry’s neck. And because they are apparently doing this now, he pulls his fingers out only to push them back in.

Harry doesn’t say anything, just swirls his tongue around Louis’ digits. It feels amazing, the way he traces the pads, gently biting down to hold Louis’ fingers in place.

Louis feels the gentle rippling of the waves beneath them change, like there’s something that’s disturbing the almost still water nearby.

Harry doesn’t notice, concentrated on his task, too busy shoving Louis’ fingers as far as they’ll go.

Louis waits, rolls his hips rhythmically and tries to not lose his surroundings completely, can’t because they aren’t in the clear yet.

“Ready?” he ask when the waves have calmed again, when he’s sure their pursuers are gone. “We need to move.”

He bites Harry’s neck because he doesn’t _want_ to move, wants to rub against his bum while shoving his wet fingers down the front of Harry’s jeans, wants to make him come like that while they’re lying here on this gondola, hidden away under a blanket and with the gentle sway of the boat.

“No,” Harry whines softly, clutches Louis’ wrist and drags his lips over Louis’ pulse, where the skin is thinnest.

Louis shivers. “Stop it.”

Harry doesn’t, pushes his arse further into Louis’ crotch and Louis curses everyone and everything, can’t really differentiate but knows he hates the moment when he makes himself pull back, when he carefully peeks out from under the blanket.

The cool night air washes over his face, clears his mind a little as his eyes scan the surrounding area. “Come on,” he says and his voice is too deep, gives him away. “We need to go.”

Harry pouts, looking gorgeous with his hair almost completely undone now, cheeks flushed, lips swollen cherry red.

Louis wrenches his eyes away, knows if he doesn’t that Harry is going to win, get his wish of them finishing what they started.

They gather their stuff, Harry wedging some money into the side of the seat.

“What’s that for?”

He shrugs while draping his backpack over his shoulders. “Isn’t the person’s fault we wrecked their boat.”

Louis stares at him, horribly charmed. “You do know about insurance, yes?”

“Well, then it’s to compensate for the shitty days he has ahead. I’ve dealt with insurance people before. I’ve pretended to _be_ one. Not fun.”

Louis can’t argue with that. They head off down a narrow walkway, both staggering slightly after having had the rhythmic swaying of the water beneath them.

“Hey,” Harry says softly, tugging on Louis’ hand. “Come here.”

Before Louis can react, Harry has him pushed into a darkened doorway, edges of the bricks digging into his shoulder. Louis frowns, is about to ask what’s wrong when Harry cups his jaw gently and leans in. Their lips brush and Louis lets out a broken, frustrated groan, pushes forward enough to press them together tightly, feels Harry’s breath hit his cheek in a broken staccato.

There’s nothing tentative about their first kiss, would be ridiculous seeing as how they’re still partially hard from their little encounter on the gondola. Harry’s tongue slides into his mouth and Louis bites at it, not playful but demanding, and Harry obliges, steps closer to slide his knee between Louis’ legs.

Louis groans, shifts onto the tips of his toes when Harry presses _up_ and it’s just too much, too good, too distracting.

He allows himself to ride Harry’s thigh for just a moment, fingers tugging frantically at the hairband until Harry’s curls slip free, offer Louis something else to hold on to.

The kiss is hot, interspersed with breaks of panting into each others mouths, Louis biting at Harry’s lower lip when he zones out and just _stares._

Louis’ hands slide down the front of Harry’s chest and he smiles when Harry’s breath hitches the moment Louis’ fingers reach the waistband of his jeans. Louis lets his index finger slip beneath, drags it tantalisingly slow from one side to the other.

He’s about to throw caution to the wind, just unbuckle Harry’s trousers right here, fall to his knees in front of him, when a tourist couple makes their way across the corner.

They’re staggering, the girl wearing a venetian mask that covers the upper half of her face, both clearly drunk and not expecting a couple necking in a darkened entrance. Harry steps back reluctantly, adjusting himself once the couple has passed them by.

He grabs for Louis’ hand as they make their way up the street, Louis shooting him an askance look because here they are, walking through a darkened street in Venice with a priceless statue stored securely in Harry’s backpack, _holding hands_ like teenagers after a dance.

Harry’s thumb rubs the back of Louis’ hand gently, Harry giving him a sweet smile the next time their eyes meet.

“You seem calmer.”

Harry’s smile widens, grows decidedly more dirty. “I am,” he says slowly. “My attention has, ah, shifted.”

“Yeah? To what?”

Harry just squeezes his hand as they enter an area with several late-night party goers milling around, some vendors still standing next to their carts, hoping for a midnight sale.

One is in luck, because Harry pulls him towards one selling venetian eye masks. Harry doesn’t hesitate, grabs for a solid black one with golden swirls radiating out from the eyeholes and covering almost the entire mask.

He holds it up to Louis’ face and Louis keeps still, looks at him expectantly through the eyeboles as the ties the string and the weight of the mask settles on his nose. “And?”

Harry nods slowly, strokes his thumb over Louis’ cheek bone. “Stunning,” he whispers hoarsely. “Brings out your eyes even more.”

Louis sucks in a breath, knees buckling ever so slightly at the look in Harry’s eyes.

Thankfully Harry goes back to the more elaborate mask for himself, holds up ceramic creations to cover his entire face and thereby giving Louis a moment to find his breath again.

“No,” Louis murmurs when Harry reaches for one with more feathers than the rest. He knows exactly which one is for Harry, not the clanky things he’s trying on. Louis grabs a fine metal filigree one, painted black and adorned with fake diamonds. The swirling mesh of the mask feels cool to the touch, Harry’s face burning in comparison when Louis fastens it for him.

“Doesn’t really hide my identity,” Harry says when he turns to Louis.

Louis looks at him in his heeled boots, ripped skinny jeans and a silky soft shirt with enough buttons undone to almost flash those nipple piercings. Louis licks his lips, takes in Harry’s soft hair falling in ringlets onto his shoulders, mask perched delicately on his nose. “We’d need a bedsheet to hide your identity,” Louis says while stepping closer, sliding his hand along Harry’s ribs. “You’re rather memorable.”

And Harry smiles, bright and beautiful.

###

Louis giggles, holds Harry’s arm just in case he slips. They’d bought a few shots under the guise of fitting in, easing their still frayed nerves. And once the alcohol had burned their throat and warmed their belly, they’d continued their stroll through the narrow alleyways of Venice until they’d happened upon some sort of festival, people dressed up in masks much like their own, going one step further with elaborate venetian clothing.

There’s street performers juggling, contorting and wowing with slight of hand. Louis sneers a bit at the latter, sees the dark-haired girl slide the watch she’s just stolen into her cuff. Sloppy lifts are his pet peeve, even if they are just for entertainment, the girl handing the watch back with a smile seconds later.

When Harry doesn't stop standing on his tiptoes, trying to get a better look at the back of the cluster of celebrating people, Louis pulls him underneath an overhanging balcony and tells him to climb.

“I’m usually much better at this,” Harry laughs as he throws his legs over the solid brick ledge and rolls over it. “When I’m not tipsy.”

“You’re drunk,” Louis says with finality. He overtook Harry on the way up to the second floor balcony, but he isn’t completely sober either.

He plans on pulling Harry in next to him, stand shoulder to shoulder while watching the people mill around below. But Harry has other ideas, is pushing him back out of sight, crushing their lips together without any preamble at all.

His back hits the wall and his breath rushes out of him, shoulder aching now. And still he pulls Harry closer to lick into his mouth, courteous and careful giving way to hard and rushed within seconds.

“Thought you wanted to see,” Louis says when they pull apart after their masks knock together, both smiling.

“I am,” Harry breathes, eyes never leaving Louis’ before he leans in for a quick peck that’s so at odds with their heated exchange that Louis is thrown off course once again.

It’s still easy to lose their backpacks next, stashed safely in the corner, both mindful of their precious cargo.

And then Harry is back in his space, dragging his lips over Louis’ while looking him dead in the eye. “May I?” he asks while dragging his fingers over the front of Louis’ trousers.

Louis bites his lip and nods. If Harry wants to blow him on top of a balcony overlooking the festivities, Louis is definitely up for it.

Clever finger scrabble over his trousers, making short work of it and pushing them and his pants down to his ankles. Louis has just stepped out of them when Harry is spinning him around, bending him over the wall’s ledge with a large hand between his shoulder blades.

The cool concrete digs into his stomach and Louis sucks in a desperate breath when his bare cock touches the rough edge as well, shies back right into Harry’s hands.

“Fuck,” is all Harry manages before he squeezes Louis’ arse enough to make him yelp. All that earns him is a bite to his left arse cheek and another squeeze.

Louis cranes his neck to look at Harry, kneeling behind him with his knees on the unforgiving floor. “While you’re down there,” he says, widening his stance. He’s trying his damndest not to shake with the anticipation but he can’t seem to get his right thigh under control. “How about you put that pretty mouth of yours to better use?”

“So glad you said that,” Harry _groans_ , prying Louis’ cheeks apart and gentling his thumb over his hole. “Wanted to since I first met you.”

Louis has a lot of answers to that but all that comes out is a loud whine because Harry is already leaning in, face pressed in tightly and mask knocked askew, tongue lapping gently but with determination.

Louis’ knees start shaking, both of them, and he collapses forward onto the waist-high wall. Harry growls, right against him, nudging his legs further apart until he’s on the tips of his toes, has no leverage to speak of.

He screws his eyes shut and lets out a muffled groan, wants to push back but can’t, not with his torso hanging over the side like this. He doesn’t have to, because Harry really _works_ at it, pushing his face closer, his tongue deeper, working his jaw like it’s relevant to his survival.

And Louis feels trapped, out here in the open, the night sky above him and the open space of the festival down below. Yet all that does is rachet up his arousal more, his cock _aching_ with neglect while pleasure shoots up his spine from Harry eating him out so thoroughly.

It’s a bit scary, the intensity of his feelings, the way he’s losing control so quickly, reduced to nothing but the pleasure Harry is providing him with.

“Fuck,” Harry rasps when he pulls back. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Louis wants to tell him to shove off, or mind his own business, or something, _anything_ to feel less vulnerable right now, but before he’s even got his thoughts in a row he feels one long, spit-covered finger press inside him.

The grunt that escapes him at the sudden stretch is nothing to the sound he issues when Harry finds his prostate and rubs the tip of his finger against it, tongue back to licking, wriggling in beside it.

Harry shifts and for a terrifying second Louis thinks he might stop, take away the tingly feeling all up his spine, the way he can feel his orgasm not far off. If Harry did, he could make himself come with a few perfectly-timed strokes and the memory of Harry trying his best to bury his tongue in Louis’ arse. But he doesn’t _want_ to come like that, hasn’t had an orgasm he didn’t give himself in forever.

Thankfully Harry doesn’t let up, just presses his finger down harder, sliding his free hand up the inside of Louis’ thigh. There’s no hesitation when he wraps his fingers around Louis’ cock, the angle weird but Harry making it work.

Louis screws his eyes shut, can’t handle the distraction from the crowd below, the colours and shapes too much when all the wants to do is _feel_.

“Oh fuck,” he groans when he feels the scratch of Harry’s mask against his arse. Harry's spit won't hold up as lube for much longer, he knows, but for now his eyes snap open when Harry presses in again, uses his other hand to place Louis’ knee on the ledge, exposing him even more.

He doesn’t even recognise them at first, the three policemen at the far end of the square. They’re walking slowly, stopping people and making them take off their masks and open their bags. And they should really move, vanish out of sight before they come closer, but he’s shivering now, aching to come, so maybe he isn’t the right person to make the decision. “There’s -- there’s police. Need t’ go.”

“Mm,” Harry hums against him, sliding his finger in and out slowly. “Close?”

“Other end of the square.”

Harry laughs as he pushes his finger in again, harder now, Louis’ knee scratching over the wall as he almost slips. “Not them. You. Are you close?”

Harry’s finger is fucking in and out purposefully now and Louis wants to spread his legs further, wants _more_. “Yes,” he chokes out, fingers digging into the ledge when Harry’s hand is back around his cock.

“Good,” Harry says, and besides the drop in his tone Louis wouldn’t know he’s even affected at all. “Cause I want to see you fall apart under my mouth, first.”

Harry pulls his finger free, uses his hand to hold Louis open and press his face between his cheeks. His lips fasten around his hole, tongue teasing the skin before he fucking _sucks_.

The moan that escapes him is almost a shout, nerve endings going haywire as Harry jerks his cock, tugging it roughly while pressing his face deeper, pushing Louis onto the very edge of his toes with the sheer force of it.

It’s all too much.

The adrenaline from tonight mixed with the arousal, with the way Harry is sucking greedily, large hand with the most perfect pressure. Louis falls apart just like Harry wanted, back arching in the uncomfortable position, cock jumping before he’s coming, hard and breathless.

Harry eases him through it gently, fingers softening their grip and mouth finally letting up, doling out tiny kisses instead while Louis hangs over the balcony, trying to suck the air back into his lungs, will his legs to work again, his mind to clear.

Harry gives him time to catch his breath, eventually pulls him upright and helps Louis back into his clothes.

When Louis feel the control of his limbs coming back to him, he gives Harry a slow once-over, watches him adjust himself, still hard, face flushed and pupils blown.

And Louis is giddy, _flirty_ in a way he hardly recognises as he steps in close and cups Harry’s bulge. “My, my,” he murmurs, pressing down with the heel of his hand, still panting heavily but revelling in the way Harry’s cock jumps under his touch. “You sure seem happy to see me.”

Harry clutches his wrist, presses his hand down more firmly. “You should do something about that.”

Louis laughs, pulling back to retrieve their backpacks. “Not right now,” he whispers into Harry’s ear while giving his pierced nipple a slow twist. “Now, we run.”

###

“Just trust me,” Harry says, shoving his hands through Louis’ hair so it looks even more disheveled than it already is. He’s insisted Louis keep wearing his mask, even though his own is stacked away in their bags. “And act like, well, act like you’re really into me, hang off my arm, that sort of thing.”

Louis just grumbles, feels silly standing in this side alley while Harry makes them both presentable.

Harry ties his hair in a bun, smoothes down his clothes and retrieves a pair of reading glasses which he pushes onto his nose. Louis can _see_ the change in his face, the way his muscles shift suddenly. Gone are the relaxed and quick to smile features, replaced with a haughty expression.

Harry pops a chewing gum into his mouth and slings his arm over Louis’ shoulders, pulling him close.

He doesn’t ask Louis if he’s ready, just drags him to the front entrance of the upscale hotel like he’s some sort of prize Harry won at the carnival. The doorman opens the door for them, nodding so deep it’s almost a bow.

The guy behind the concierge’s desk sees them coming over and immediately straightens up, his smile hardly slipping at all when his gaze travels from Harry to Louis, takes in the possessive way Harry is pulling him close.

“Mr. Jones, I trust you enjoyed your evening out?”

Harry nods, not displaying any of the friendly openness he’s shown with everyone so far. “Is my room ready?”

“Everything you requested this morning has been acquired and brought up to your room, sir.”

“Very well,” Harry says dismissively, dragging Louis towards the elevator. He lets him step in first, a rough hand palming his arse and squeezing before the doors even close properly.

“What the fuck?”

“Sorry,” Harry says in a voice far more his own. “It’s just this persona I have set up here. He’s a bit of an arsehole.”

He reaches up to remove his spectacles and loosen his hair again.

Louis watches him closely. “It’s kind of hot. Either way, I mean.”

The smile that blossoms is all Harry, no trace of Mr. Jones left as he pushes Louis back against the mirrored wall and proceeds to kiss him senseless.

When they reach Harry’s hotel room it becomes apparent that he’s been staying here the entire time, the place huge but lived in, several parcels stacked on the entrance table with a note on hotel stationery for Mr. Jones’ attention.

Harry hardly lets him snoop around at all before he’s got the David stored away in his safe and is dragging Louis back out again, finding just enough time to take Louis’ mask off and place it by the entrance.

“Where’re we going,” Louis asks as Harry closes the hotel door behind them, leaning his head against the smooth wood for just a moment, like he’s collecting himself.

“Food,” Harry says, voice strained.

“Food? Now?”

Harry nods resolutely, grabbing Louis’ hand and pulling him back towards the elevators. They emerge on a rooftop terrace, gorgeously lit with orange-yellow lights strung along the delicate banisters. It’s past midnight and there’s only one other table occupied. No one bats an eye when Harry steers Louis towards a table in the far corner, with a beautiful view of the wide canal below.

Louis is still a bit baffled though. “Honestly? We’re getting food now?”

“Yeah,” Harry murmurs into his ear, stepping closer from behind. “Told you I’d wine and dine you properly. And I _have_ already eaten you out. So now I’m taking you out eating.”

Louis groans, pretends to turn away but really just rolls into Harry’s chest to look up at him. “I have to go. Got a thing.”

Harry laughs easily, pulls him closer by sliding his arms over Louis’ shoulders and holding his own elbows. “You think I’m funny. Also, you really liked being eaten out. Was scared you’d fall over that ledge.”

“Oh, _please_ ,” Louis scoffs. “My balance is perfect.”

Harry curls his lower body closer, still grinning like a fool. “We should test that theory.”

Before his mind can stray too much down that line of thought, Louis slides into a seat and accepts the menu from the waiter.

Harry sits down opposite him, watches Louis while he studies the food choices, not even looking at his own menu which lies forgotten on the tabletop.

“Your staring is creepy,” Louis tells him without looking up.

Harry jolts, like he’s genuinely surprised he got caught, collects himself quickly and replies nonchalantly, “can’t really be helped. You’re rather nice to look at.”

Louis shoots him a look over the edge of his menu, only gets an earnest one in return.

“So,” he says, clearing his voice to collect himself. Harry unsettles him and he doesn’t quite know how to deal with that yet. “How did Stan find you?”

“Isn’t it like, an unspoken rule in our line of work to never ask such things?”

Louis waves a dismissive hand. “Breaking rules is half the fun.”

That earns him another secretive grin before Harry settles back into his chair, looking out over the water for a long moment. “I’ve worked a couple of jobs with Ed before. We go way back. And I’ve met Nick twice before, I think.”

Louis nods, fascinated at the way Harry’s lips shift so effortlessly back into a grin when he’s done, the way Harry runs his hand through his hair to fluff it up, then strokes his fingers along the length of it like he’s checking if every curl is in place.

“What about you?”

Louis shakes his head. “Nah, that’s boring. You’ll have to ask me something different.”

Harry pouts, and it’s an experience all in itself, Louis thankful when the waiter comes to ask them for their choice of drink before promising to return promptly.

When he looks back to Harry, his face is scrunched up in a frown.

“What?”

“That’s just rude.”

Louis can feel his hackles rising, his walls slamming into place around him. “What is,” he asks in a clipped tone.

“The waiter was totally flirting with you. I mean it’s pretty clear we’re here on a date and yet he actually flirted with you.”

This could be Harry playing him, Louis realises. It would be a rather clever ploy to let him feel secure in Harry’s interest. Or Harry is actually jealous. Louis isn’t quite sure which would be worse.

He decides he doesn’t care, chooses it as an opportunity instead.

When their waiter returns -- a pretty enough guy in his twenties, not that Louis had really noticed before -- Louis gives him a friendly smile.

“Thank you so much,” he all but simpers at him, gets a shy smile in return.

Harry’s shoulders tighten, a scowl forming on his face.

Louis grins.

“About the food,” he says, pitches his voice low so the guy has to lean in. “What would you recommend?”

Harry opens his mouth, no doubt about to intervene, and Louis can’t have that. He knocks his foot against Harry’s, who snaps his mouth shut long enough for Louis to slip out of his vans. While the waiter launches into their specials, Louis reaches down to remove his sock, stretches his toes for just a second.

“Oh,” he says breathily, holding out his menu. “Which one is that, can you show me? It sounds delicious.”

Just as the waiter leans in to point out the dish Louis hasn’t even bothered listening to, Harry opens his mouth again, brow set in a confused line.

“You know -” he starts but breaks off the moment he feels Louis’ foot against his calf, toes stroking up the side of it.

Louis gently places his hand on the waiter’s arm, looking at him with eyes as innocent as he knows how to make them. “What else would you recommend?”

He moves his foot, plants it right in the middle of Harry’s thighs. Harry grunts and shifts, legs falling open easily for Louis’ foot to slip between, nestle in nice and tight against Harry’s crotch.

The waiter is still talking, Louis looking at him with interest while he slides the sole of his foot along Harry’s zipper. Harry shifts, makes a weird noise in the back of his throat and Louis has to concentrate not to laugh.

It’s surprisingly easy, teasing Harry like this. Fun, even. Because Louis _is_ having fun right now, similar to when he’s crawling through a vent shaft. He twists his ankle, rolls Harry’s quickly hardening cock, digs his toes into the tight denim.

And no, this isn’t anything like the inside of a vent shaft. This is like opening a safe. Not a digital one, but an older model, with a dial. With a combination to get right.

Harry wraps his fingers around Louis’ ankle, to warn him off supposedly. Louis grins, directs it at the waiter though and slides his foot forward again.

“I’ll have the calamari salad, then. That sounds delicious.”

“Very good, sir,” says their waiter, turning to Harry now. “And what will it be for you, sir?”

It’s sort of rude how Harry doesn’t even look away from Louis. “I’m having what he’s having.” He squeezes Louis’ ankle, making Louis grin wider.

“You look bothered,” Louis says when they’re alone.

“What are you doing?”

Louis drags his foot up Harry’s length again before pulling his leg out of Harry’s grasp and settling his foot on the ground. “Ordering food.”

“You shouldn’t tease people.”

“Oh?” Louis says on a laugh, horribly endeared by this boy. “You sure know a lot about that.”

Harry’s freakishly long legs swipe out under the table, drawing Louis’ leg back in. Next thing, Harry has reached out to catch Louis’ ankle in a soft grip again. His thumb rubs over the fine bones there, scratching gently over his triangle tattoo. Either by chance or design, not that Louis had been aware of Harry even knowing about it. Observant bastard.

“If I recall correctly,” Harry murmurs, both hands stroking up Louis’ leg now, tickling the back of his knee. “I didn’t leave you wanting.”

“Oh is that what this is about? We’re keeping score now?”

Harry just looks at him, hands still gentling over his leg, the silence stretches almost to the breaking point until finally Harry opens his mouth. “How old were you for your first job?”

It’s Louis’ turn to stare. But he’s possibly brought this on himself, so it’s tough to complain now. “Solo mission?”

“Yeah.”

“Thirteen.”

“Oh shit -- I mean wow. That’s young.”

“It’s different,” Louis says with a shrug. “We aren’t supposed to be seen. When you grift, all the focus is literally on you, that’s the con. Tough to con someone when you’re thirteen.”

Harry nods. “No one watches you put the rabbit in the hat when you’ve got their attention somewhere else.”

“Exactly. You’re meant to distract in plain sight.

Harry grips Louis’ calf with both hands and pulls him closer, chair and all. He leans over the table to whisper, “am I distracting you?”

Louis doesn’t reply, the truthful answer a bit too much for him right now. “How long have you stayed here? At this hotel I mean?”

Harry is clearly annoyed by the subject change, but then he blinks slowly before rolling with it. “Since the beginning.”

“Six weeks?”

Harry nods and they fall silent, looking at each other intently. Louis can’t quite figure Harry out, can’t quite pinpoint his motivations. He might just be an exceptionally good grifter, playing Louis all this time. But Louis suspects he isn’t, doesn’t think _anyone_ can play such lovable earnestness amidst a sea of cockiness. No one is _that_ good.

And really, he’s long since made his decision when it comes to Harry, wouldn’t have allowed Harry to bend him over that balcony otherwise.

Their food is served and they eat with a level of distractedness it really doesn’t deserve. Harry has placed Louis foot between his thighs again, sole curving gently over Harry’s bulge. Every time Louis wants to pull it back down, Harry makes this whiny little sound in the back of his throat, fingers encircling almost all the way around his ankle. And each and every time Louis leaves it there, frowning and asking himself why.

Dinner is a blur, both of them eager to move this to Harry’s bedroom, impatience outweighing the need for sustenance.

They make it to the elevator without causing a public scene, at which point Louis jumps into Harry’s arms, Harry’s hands gripping under his thighs while he pulls himself closer with his arms around Harry’s neck.

Their lips are already setting a bruising rhythm by the time Harry presses Louis’ back against the wall, thrusting his hips eagerly. The doors ding open at their floor, neither moving besides pulling the other closer.

When the doors close again Harry rests his forehead against Louis’, slides his hands over his bum and up his sides, chewing on his bottom lip distractedly.

Louis runs a thumb over it, watches it pop free from between the teeth. He presses down on it instead, marvels at the soft plushness. “You have a gorgeous mouth,” he whispers, like it’s some sort of secret, like Harry isn’t aware of his desirability.

“Yeah? You thinking of anything specific?”

Louis sighs, because has he ever. “Many, many things.”

Dimples flashing he kisses Louis softly. “Like what?”

Louis wraps his hand in the back of Harry’s curls, tightly wrapping the shorter strands around his fingers. Then, he _pulls_.

Harry’s neck arches beautifully, his eyes slipping to half mast, lips parted when Louis just hold him there and stares. “Want you to suck me,” he whispers urgently against Harry’s mouth.

A groan rumbles against his lips. “Yeah,” Harry pants, miraculously pressing them tighter together still. “Want that, too.”

And that alone is enough for Louis to start squirming, pushing against Harry’s chest until he sets him down with another pout, which he ignores in favour of dragging Harry to his room.

He slips out of Harry’s hands once they’re locked inside, grins at Harry’s frustrated noise. Harry’s mask is still in his backpack and Louis retrieves it only seconds before strong hands slide over his waist. For the first time Harry presses his crotch against his bum and Louis gasps, immediately rotating his hips backwards and delighting in the way Harry’s breath comes out a broken mess.

“Get naked,” Louis says while squirming away again, because he can’t fucking _think_ with Harry’s hands on him, feels rushed when he shouldn’t have to.

It takes Harry a surprisingly short amount of time to remove his clothes and Louis just stares at him, expanses of soft skin over subtle muscle, several tattoos lining his forearm and chest. There’s laurels painted deep over the front of his hips, his hard cock standing full between them.

Now it’s Louis whofeels desperate, feels rushed because he wants to get his hand on that, wants to see how far he can take Harry’s cock in his mouth without choking because _fuck_. Louis isn’t some sort of hussy, his life just doesn’t play into that, but he’s had plenty of sexual partners thank you very much. But wrapping his fingers around Harry’s cock, he’s also certain he’s never had anyone quite that big.

It’s rather intriguing.

“Louis,” Harry whines, pawing at Louis’ jumper and getting absolutely nowhere. “Louis come on.”

“Yeah,” Louis mumbles pressing Harry’s mask into his hands and pulling his sweater over his head. Harry drops the mask immediately and steps closer, hands roaming over Louis’ chest while he groans, tries to shove his hand down the front of Louis’ pants.

Louis shakes his head laughing, his voice far more steady than he feels. “No love. I gave you that mask to put on.”

Harry blinks at him, hands clasped before his chest after Louis bats them away.

“Go on then,” he says after stepping out of his clothes. Harry looks a bit lost, takes a step towards him and Louis laughs again, sidesteps and swipes the mask off the floor.

Harsh breaths fill the air when Louis gently ties the mask to Harry’s face, mindful to not have his curls caught in anything. “You okay?”

Harry nods immediately, whines, “Louis,” hands reaching out again but he dances out of reach, stands in the middle of the decadently furnished sitting room of Harry’s expensive Hotel suite and plants his feet securely.

“Still want to suck me?”

There’s no answer except for Harry falling to his knees in front of him, gloriously naked, his curls almost as wild as the look in his eyes. He doesn’t waste any time, wraps his gorgeous lips around the head of Louis’ cock and starts bobbing his head, eyes still looking up at Louis from between the dark metal swirls.

He looks amazing like this, almost otherworldly with the mask accentuating his eyes and cheekbones, hit _lips_. They’re petal soft when Louis drags his thumb over them, Harry humming in contentment with his head tipped back slightly,

His knees buckle because this is all just slightly insane, even for him. His hands in Harry’s hair are gentle but guiding and Harry just moans and complies, closing his eyes for just a moment when he takes him deep before Louis is trapped in his green gaze again.

There’s so many things Louis wants to say, so many things he wants to tell Harry in that moment. Only he can’t, too overwhelmed by it all, by Harry’s mouth, his eyes, the entire fucking night.

He strokes Harry’s cheek, just under the edge of the mask while Harry pushes forward enough for Louis’ cock to hit the back of his throat. He doesn’t take him deeper, pulling back each time.

“Ever had someone fuck your throat?”

Harry moans around him, eyes pressing shut. Loud gasps fill the quiet room when he pulls back, rubs his hands up and down his thighs. “No,” he rasps and Louis can see Harry’s cock jump in his lap.

“That’s okay,” Louis tells him, tracing his mouth again, puffy and red and absolutely gorgeous. “I can show you, if you want.”

Harry’s reaction is immediate, his large hand wrapping around his equally large cock, groaning deeply as he gives himself several rough pulls, his gaze desperate from beneath the mask.

“Come on,” Louis says urgently now, pulling Harry to his feet and dragging him to the bedroom. “Don’t want you to come yet.”

“Why not,” Harry pouts, stumbling behind him.

Louis just shoves him onto the bed and goes to rummage through the bedside drawer, finds only lube there. “Where’re your condoms?”

“Bathroom,” Harry groans.

Louis goes to retrieve them, avoiding his own disheveled appearance, doesn’t need to see his flushed face to know just how turned on he really is.

Harry is lying spread out on the bed, his back propped up against the headboard and his cock back in his hand.

Louis bats it away.

“Come on,” Harry groans, fisting his hands in the duvet. “You already came. Just let me.”

“No.” Louis climbs into his lap and leans in for a hard kiss.

“Why not?”

He presses the lube into Harry’s palm, bites at his lip. “Want you to come inside me.”

Harry groans loudly, one hand wrapping around Louis’ middle to lift him off his knees in one hard swoop. His back hits the mattress, thighs spreading so Harry can slide between them.

He fiddles with the lube clumsily, but soon Louis feels wet fingers at his hole, scratches down Harry’s back at how good it already is.

There’s something else he wanted to say but suddenly his entire self is flooded with pleasure, Harry impatient and pushing in two fingers right off the bat. Louis arches into it, goes a bit mental at the slight burn, at the way Harry is so fucking eager he can hardly control himself.

And eagerness might be part of it, but Harry definitely knows _exactly_ what he’s doing, crooks his fingers and finds his prostate almost immediately. Louis rolls his hips, goose bumps popping up on his arms when Harry starts pulling out and thrusting back in, his thumb reaching out to stroke just under Louis’ balls.

The spreading of Harry’s fingers has Louis arching, feels so fucking full already that the mere thought of Harry’s cock makes him whine, makes him spread his legs wider.

“You’re so tight,” Harry whispers.

“Yes well,” Louis says, aiming for nonchalant and getting nowhere close. “‘S been a while.”

He could clarify that it’s been a while since he’s let anyone fuck him, not since he’s last had sex, but that’s not really a distinction Harry needs to know about, makes Louis feel vulnerable in a way he isn’t quite ready to share.

Harry works quietly, intently after that, kissing the inside of Louis’ thigh and sucking a bruise into his hip when he adds another finger, stretches him more.

“You want a fourth?”

Louis shakes his head, scrabbles for purchase at Harry’s shoulders, tries to pull him up while grinding down on his fingers.

Harry goes easily, gives him a gentle kiss. “You sure? You’re still so tight I -- you want me to eat you out again?”

Louis’ whole body goes taut at that, back arching right of the mattress and a keening sound coming from his throat. His body feels on fire, Harry’s fingers in his arse making him feel full and yet not full enough.

“No,” he says, _whines_ , “no, need your cock now.”

Harry doesn’t look sure at all and Louis can’t believe this, huffs and searches for a condom blindly. He rips it open with his teeth, shoves it at Harry once it falls into his waiting palm, then mourns the loss when Harry pulls his fingers free to roll it onto his dick.

“Shh,” Harry says, stretching out on top of Louis and stroking his brow, his knees wedged in under Louis’ thighs so his hips tilt up. His mask is crooked and Louis yanks at the strings and drops over the bed’s edge when it comes free, wants to see the real Harry now.

He cries out at the first touch of the wide head at his hole, almost cries again when Harry stalls, biting his lip like he’s unsure.

“Come on,” Louis says, his hands palming Harry’s arse and pulling him closer. “Wipe that look off your face, I’m just loud in bed. Get used to it.”

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Harry whispers.

Louis just wraps his legs around him tighter because clearly Harry had some bad experiences when it comes to fucking guys and Louis has no doubt there’ll be a bit of a sting at first, only Harry doesn’t seem to get that Louis _wants_ that.

He’s long since come to terms with the fact that he is a bit of an adrenaline junkie, with the fact that he likes to take things to the extreme, revels in them, gets off on it.

It’s not in him to explain all this to Harry now, so he just pulls him in tighter and hopes he gets the idea.

It does hurt when Harry first pushes in and Louis tries not to cry out again for Harry’s sake. He’s squirming hard though, whipping his head from side to side on the soft covers, his nails digging into the flesh of Harry’s arse, urging him closer.

“Don’t stop,” Louis gasps when it seems like Harry is about to. “All the way first.”

By the time Harry is seated deep inside him they’re both sweaty and panting, Louis trying to relax because jesus _fuck_ he’s so full he feels like he should be choking on it, feels Harry’s cock shift inside of him when he arches, own cock rubbing up against Harry’s belly.

Harry is swearing into his neck, sucking bruising kisses into it to distract himself, the muscles in his back shifting under Louis’ fingertips with his restraint.

“Move,” Louis whispers because he can’t talk any louder, doesn’t have the air for it.

Harry gathers him close, arms sliding under Louis’ lower back and tilting his hips further as he shuffles closer on his knees.

Then finally, _finally_ he pulls out and pushes back in, and the last grasp Louis had on reality flies out the window as heat erupt inside him, pushed in deeper by Harry’s cock.

His tries to hold on, to Harry’s back, the comforter, the headboard. Harry must notrice his struggle because he repositions him, slides both Louis’ legs over his shoulders, practically bending him in half. And fuck, fuck, _fuck_ sliding in deeper still, Louis lets go completely, of trying to keep in control of the situation, lets go and just _feels,_ every powerful thrust of Harry’s cock, every twist of his hips.

Harry is saying things, bent over him while never letting up, things about how Louis feels, how he looks, how much Harry is getting off on it all. Louis can’t make out the words but he gets the meaning, feels his cock aching between them all the harder because of it.

He slides his hand between them, watches Harry suck on his own bottom lip as Louis wraps his fingers around his cock, clenching up almost immediately as the first ripples of his orgasm spread through his entire body.

Harry grunts, thrusts shallow now, either because he’s close or because Louis is just too tight. Louis can’t worry about that right now, needs to arch, give his orgasm space to expand through him.

It hits him hard and uncontrolled, ripping through him in one harsh wave after another, cock pulsing in his hand and painting his chest all the way up to his chin. It’s so intense he completely misses Harry coming too, vows he’ll watch him through it the next time, wants it sooner rather than later, feels needy for it while still coming down.

They collapse in a tangled, messy heap, Harry panting against his neck like he’s just run a marathon. He has, Louis supposes, displayed a rather athletic feat, so he pulls him closer with arms and legs, kisses his sweaty brow.

“Fuck,” Harry says, dazed and heartfelt.

Louis laughs, squirms until Harry slips out of him.

“You’re really flexible,” Harry pants, evidently still too tired to move.

“It’s practically part of my job description.” He falls back onto the bed, stretching, and winces when a dull ache shoots up his spine. Harry opens his mouth and Louis just _knows_ he’s about to say something stupid. “If you’re about to apologise for the size of your cock, I’m never letting you do that again.”

That shuts Harry up, makes him slump against Louis and giggle into his skin. “You’re weird.”

“Says the grifter to the thief.”

Harry giggles some more and Louis can’t help but be utterly endeared by this side of Harry, the way he blinks at Louis sleepily through his broad grin.

Louis doesn’t feel tired though, he’s wired. And ready for more. “Where’s the lube?”

Harry shrugs, just flops onto the bed when Louis squirms out from under him. While Louis searches between the bedcovers, Harry rolls onto his back and gets rid of his condom.

Lube finally located, Louis hands him some tissues from the nightstand and makes sure it all lands in the waste basket. Once done, Harry flops back onto his belly and pulls a pillow over his face, groaning loudly.

Louis pulls it right back off, leans down to kiss Harry’s cheek. “You tired?” he asks in his sweetest voice.

“Mmh, yeah,” Harry mumbles, rubbing his grin into the blanket.

Louis slides his hand up Harry’s thigh slowly, lube-covered fingers dipping between his cheeks. “Too bad,” he murmurs, circling Harry’s hole slowly at first, applying more pressure when Harry gasps softly and pushes back into the touch. “Because we aren’t done yet.”

“No?” Harry asks and it’s in a flirty if tired tone. “What else could there be?”

Louis presses just the tip of one finger in, drags the rim outward gently. “Get up on your hands and knees and I’ll show you.”

Harry does get up, all the way to kiss Louis hard on the mouth. It’s an awkward kiss what with Harry smiling so wide, but no less lovely for it.

And then Harry gets into position, looking at Louis over his shoulder while spreading his legs and arching his back and Louis thinks he might fall in love just then, only a little.

###

“Are you robbing me?”

Louis starts, but only because he’d been concentrating so hard. He sits naked and with his feet folded under him on the carpet, his ear pressed to the cool metal. He closes his eyes again, the image of Harry, sleep-tousled and bleary-eyed, sitting up on the bed with the sheet slipping down into his lap still burned into his mind.

“Blind,” he mutters.

One little turn on the dial later has him grinning widely at the little _snick_. With a simple twist of his wrist the safe swings open, revealing his prize.

He grabs the little statue, then points to the safe and grins up at Harry. “It’s a shitty make. Could open it with my ear alone.” He looks around at the extravagant, antique furnishings, the exceptionally high ceilings and the view of the river through the huge windows. “How much are you paying for this dump?”

Harry’s dimples deepen and he falls forward onto the bed, sheet slipping off completely. “Were you bored?” He props his chin in his hand, looks at Louis expectantly.

“A bit.”

Harry faceplants on the bed, turns onto his side and makes grabby-hands in Louis’ direction. “Come here,” he whines when Louis doesn’t get up.

“Why?” He looks Harry over suspiciously before clutching the statue close to him. “You just want to steal my David.”

Harry quirks an eyebrow. “Your David?”

Louis shows him his teeth before insisting, “yes, mine. Just stole it, didn’t I?”

Harry’s laugh is light as he falls onto his back, eyes brimming with joy and causing Louis to smile wider. He levels Louis with a long stare before saying in a raspy voice, “come here.”

And Louis scrambles up on the bed to lie down draped over Harry’s chest. “Here I am,” he whispers with a quick kiss. “And I brought David.”

Harry looks at where Louis is wriggling the statue around in front of his face before settling his gaze back on Louis, Harry’s hand warm and heavy at the small of his back.

“The one you just stole?”

“That one,” Louis agrees. He stretches to place the sculpture onto the bedside table before wriggling in between Harry’s legs and crossing his arms on Harry’s chest. “I’m bored now.”

“D’you wanna watch a movie?” Harry’s voice is gentle, like a lullaby that doesn’t necessarily make him tired but less ansty instead.

He thinks about it for a second before shaking his head, gets lost in the way the skin of Harry’s shoulders feels under his fingertips. “I’m gonna take a bath in that huge tub of yours.”

Harry perks up. “Can I join?”

Louis twirls a strand of Harry’s hair around his finger. “I’m not sure. What do I get out of it?”

“I’ll think of something,” Harry giggles before squirming out from under him and disappearing into the bathroom.

Moments later Louis hears the faucets turn on.

Harry finds him shortly afterwards, sprawled out on his stomach and looking over the menu again. He slides up Louis’ body, kissing the back of his knee, his left bum cheek and finally biting down on the back of his neck gently.

“Mmh, you want to order food first?”

“Yeah.”

Harry kisses his shoulder. “Okay.”

###

Harry gets out of the bath before him, to open the door for their food. By the time Louis has dried himself off -- he’s refusing to wear the second robe, no matter how much Harry begs -- the statue is no longer on the bedside table. The safe remains how Louis left it, door open and empty.

Louis narrows his eyes.

Harry is busy setting the table, buck naked again. Not that they’ve had much occasion for clothes over the last few days but Louis does wonders if maybe he opened the door like that, made it awkward for the hotel staff.

“Dinner is served,” he tells Louis with a bright smile, pats the seat next to him. Louis sits down and starts digging in, his mind already working overtime.

They polish off another dinner without ever leaving Harry’s hotel rooms all day, turn on the telly while gently patting their bellies.

Just when Harry’s eyes start drooping, Louis retrieves the lube and condoms from where he’d stashed them behind a pillow and nudges the side of Harry’s face. “Wanna know what I think?”

Harry looks at the items in his hand with rising interest. “What’s that?”

“I think you should ride me. Out here, this time.”

Harry scrambles to sit in his lap, crouches down for a dirty kiss. “Yeah,” he says, “yeah, I like that plan.”

Louis nods, lets Harry tire himself out, first on his fingers and then on his cock. By the time they’re both loose-limbed and sticky from their orgasms, Harry can hardly keep his eyes open. Louis kisses his temple and helps him stagger over to the bed, watches him fall asleep with a gentle smile on his face.

His own tiredness falls off him the moment he climbs out of bed quietly and without disturbing Harry.

He heads for the wardrobe first, inspects every nook and cranny. He finds the sculpture hidden away out in the living room, inside an old chest standing near the couches.

He takes it back to the bedroom, places it onto his nightstand before crawling underneath the covers and curling in close to Harry’s heat.

###

“Yes but why is his dick so small?”

Harry sighs, takes the statue gently out of Louis’ hands. “Because Michelangelo wanted to show David’s potential. This isn’t a depiction of a grown man, rather a prepubescent boy.”

Louis wrinkles his nose. “That makes it worse. Why would he do that?”

Harry smiles, twists the statue to show Louis, “see his hands and head? See how they’re slightly too large for the body? And how he’s already got pretty decent musculature?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s depicting a boy that hasn’t passed through puberty yet. And yet he’s already got the features of a man. What he’s telling us is that when this boy grows up, he’s going to be stronger still. He’d have to be, to defeat Goliath.”

“Okay,” Louis says slowly, leaning over Harry to grab for the cotton napkin from the nightstand.

Harry uses that moment to let one hand fall onto Louis’ naked bum, kneading it and making him squirm. Louis tries not to moan, aching just enough from their previous rounds that Harry’s ministrations send a shiver up his spine and make his cock take an interest.

“Wait,” Louis says while twisting into a sitting position. He guides Harry’s hand with the statue by pulling on his wrist. He ties the napkin toga-style around the little marble body, adjusting the material until it sits just right. “There.”

Harry nods sagely. “Very modest.”

“Good.” Louis takes the statue from him and places it on Harry’s nightstand, the napkin trailing behind it like the train from a dress. He considers it before turning the statue around, making it face away.

Harry’s long fingers have found their way back onto his bum and this time he doesn’t pull away, presses closer instead.

“Happy?”

Louis grabs for Harry’s free hand and guides it to his cock.

He groans when Harry’s fingers tighten, sending pulses of pleasure up his spine.

“Very.”

**Author's Note:**

> → [tumblr post](http://karamelised.tumblr.com/post/137341025457/fic-stealers-keepers-by-karamelised-for)
> 
> Feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome! Or tell me which line really stuck with you, that's always fun <3


End file.
